[While at a library's corner among books, the corner looking out the Pearl Harbor, and remembering the dead of Eastern Visayas. Ha, I cannot write! The muse of poetry, please come, come, come!]
Estos reminiscencias de los estantes
son un fuego de amor.
Aqui, a las tres de la tarde,
el buque de guerra
su declara una rendicion.
No hay vencedor
por el puerto,
que ondula silencio.
Escribo sobre una nacion
que no puedo contar
a sus muertos.
Lo large de los años,
las furiosas aguas olvidaran.
--
Dagitoy a lagip dagiti estante
ket apuy ni ayat.
Ditoy, iti alas tres iti malem,
sumuko ti barko a pakidangadang.
Awan nagballigi
iti puerto nga agsarsaraisi
iti kaulimekan.
Sursuratek ti maipapan
iti pagilian a dina
mabilang dagiti minatayna.
Iti di agbayag, makalipatton
ti narungsot a danum.
--
These reminiscences of shelves
are a fire of love.
Here, at three o'clock,
the warship declares a surrender.
There is no victor
by the harbor
that ripples in silence.
I write about a nation
that cannot count its dead.
Over the years, the raging
waters will forget.
Hon, HI/
Nov 26, 2013
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